


déjà vu

by magesamell



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien doles out some choice Relationship Advice TM, Alya schemes, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Marinette watches Project Runway, Nino eats some Pastrami, post-episode: Volpina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magesamell/pseuds/magesamell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard enough paying attention in class without her anxiety obsessing over some ridiculous boy in a catsuit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	déjà vu

She didn’t know what had gotten into Chat Noir, but he had better get over it soon before her anxiety activated the Marinette Dupain-Cheng Ultimate Freak Out ModeTM, patent pending.

The way she saw it, she had enough Going On in her fun-filled double life that she just couldn’t allow a weird dynamic with her best friend get added to the pile of white lies, late nights, and general tardiness. It was hard enough paying attention in class without her anxiety obsessing over some ridiculous boy in a catsuit.

Ever since they defeated Volpina Chat Noir had been — different. Quieter. Distant on every level.

Oh, sure, Paris’ resident superhero team struck down akumas like clockwork, every lunge, dodge, and parry perfectly in sync. But once she’d bid the purified butterfly goodbye, he couldn’t seem to leave her fast enough.

It had only been a week. But both of their patrols had been stilted, unwieldy affairs.

He was going through the motions, Marinette realized. She tapped her cheek with the butt of her pen.

Did something happen in his civilian life? For once, she found herself wishing she knew him outside the catsuit, if only so she could help him sort it out.

This kind of thing — it didn’t seem like the kind of thing a lucky charm could fix.

What did she know about him?

  * He was her age.
  * His parents were separated, or something similar.
  * He worked a lot.



Maybe he had to, because of finances? That made sense. If he was overworked, he would be tired and withdrawn, right?

She chewed on her lip. The bell had rung for lunch.

She couldn’t shake the feeling his problem had something to do with her.

“You okay, Marinette?”

She looked up to face Adrien’s pleasant smile.

“Oh, yes.”

“You looked upset,” he prompted. She noticed that he looked tired, overworked even. He had bags under his eyes and everything. And he was asking after _her_?

“She’s probably worried about her submission to your dad’s next contest.”

Marinette glanced at Alya, torn between annoyance and gratitude for her interjection, before nodding at Adrien. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

Lies. She had, but she hadn’t been worried about it. After winning the bowler hat contest, the scarf one, and the jacket one after that, she wasn’t too jittery about submitting. She’d been so caught up in her Chat problem she’d considered not even participating.

“Well, you shouldn’t worry,” Adrien told her. “Your designs are always beautiful.” He smiled, and she smiled back at him mechanically.

Wow. Adrien complimented her and it didn’t send her mood into the stratosphere. She must be distracted.

Or she had finally trained herself not to act like an idiot in front of him. She packed her bag, ignoring Alya’s sly look.

“Are we still doing the deli?” Nino asked. Alya and Adrien assented, and Marinette followed her friends a half-pace behind them.

If she was Chat’s problem, _why_? What had she done? What had changed?

Marinette shook herself out of her thoughts when she noticed Adrien had fallen into step with her.

“I meant it,” he said, chuckling a little. “You don’t have to worry so much. Your aesthetic is all Gabriel.”

She snorted. “I know. Honestly, it’s really easy to design for your dad’s taste.”

He looked at her a little weird. “Yeah. Uh.”

Backpedal! Backpedal, Dupain-Cheng!

“I mean—” Marinette laughed a weird, high-pitched laugh. “I’m not saying your dad is predictable, just that I feel like I already know what he wants. And I just need to find the design in my brain and deliver.”

“So you are saying he’s predictable.”

Marinette blanched. “No! I mean—”

“No, I get it,” Adrien said, infuriatingly unflappable and forgiving. Until he looked away, and said: “He is very clear about his expectations.”

She noticed him twitching a little. “Are _you_ okay, Adrien?”

“I’m fine,” he brushed off.

“Yeah, okay. You’re not as convincing as you think you are.”

He was like Chat. She could read his sadness in the curve of his shoulders, the turn of his cheek.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she continued. “But I’ll be here if you ever want to.”

He smiled at her, but before he could say anything in reply, they arrived at the deli and Nino started crowing about hot pastrami.

 

-o-

 

Marinette continued to be bad company throughout lunch. She couldn’t make herself feel guilty about it. In the grand scheme of things, her relationship with Chat was more important than slighting her friends for one afternoon. Paris depended on them being good together. Even if this thing hadn’t yet affected their work, it still could if it went unresolved.

Since Volpina, she reminded herself.

What had she done? Well, she had been harsh on Lila. But she had deserved it. Sort of. And anyway, she’d apologized, but Lila didn’t. She couldn’t be faulted for that.

Would Chat really be upset about that?

What _else_?

“I think Marinette’s having a stroke,” Alya laughed.

“What?” she said it harsher than she intended, looking round at the laughing table.

“You’ve been frowning at your salad for minutes.”

“The secret to her next Agreste design must be in there,” Nino teased.

“Ha _ha._ ” said Marinette. Ugh. She just had to get through the afternoon. And then at patrol she would ask Chat about it. Directly. Straight forward. Maybe. If she didn’t chicken out between now and then.

She glanced at Adrien, who had a wry smile on his face.

_Oh_.

Chat knew, didn’t he? She had been so obvious.

She nearly gave up her miraculous! For Adrien. He was — was he jealous?

That didn’t seem like him. But she had been so stupid…

She blinked at Adrien, and then looked back at her salad.

Adrien was a familiar face around the city. Chat probably recognized him. Would he really get so upset at her liking someone else?

She didn’t think so. He was mostly joking in his affections, anyway. She knew he cared a lot about her. Marinette cared about him, too. They were partners. And all of it — was just their thing. It wasn’t serious. It was banter and adrenaline and the kind of things you could only say flying in the air.

Alya bumped her shoulder, directing her attention to an embarrassing Facebook status her mom had just made. Marinette chuckled, and took a sip of her lemonade. She was officially miserable.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Adrien trying to catch her gaze, but she avoided him, looking back at her food. This time, she even started to eat it.

On the way back to _collège_ , she let Alya hook her elbow around her arm and chatter on about her _maman_ and all the ways she sucked at technology. For once, Marinette wished Adrien would play her less attention.

 

-o-

 

Nine o'clock rolled around and Ladybug still hadn’t figured out Chat’s deal. She twisted the tip of her gloved index finger, worrying the spandex between her fingers and letting it snap back into place.

He was late. Only by two minutes, but usually he was early.

Hearing his shadow thump beside her was a relief.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said pleasantly. Ladybug turned, walking to him until he was close enough to reach. Just in case.

“Hi,” she said. “Listen. I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He was hesitant. But nodded.

“You haven’t been yourself,” she said. “Since Volpina.”

He immediately tensed, casting her a guarded look.

“And, you know, you can say it’s not my business. I’m just worried about you, Chat. Are you — is everything okay?”

Ladybug watched him, holding her breath.

His cat-eyes gleamed lime-bright in the dark, reflecting all the lights of the cityscape.

“I’m fine,” he said firmly.

“Are you mad at me?” she blurted.

“What?”

“Are you mad at me about Volpina? Or Adrien? What did I do?”

He sighed. “You didn’t do anything, Ladybug.”

“I did, though. I almost gave up my miraculous. For — nothing. For an illusion. I should have known better. I should have been smarter.”

“It’s okay, Ladybug. I get it.”  He nodded at her. “Volpina was very convincing.”

There was something very off about his face.

“Is it Adrien?” she asked again. “You think I was stupid for giving up the miraculous for him.”

“I…” he said, soft. “I’m really fine, Ladybug. You don’t need to worry.”

“That’s it.” She said. “You’re upset — that I care about him.”

“We should really be going—”

“You’re actually jealous of him? Chat, I thought you were better than that!” Ladybug spat, edging on not so much annoyance or disappointment, but _desperation_ — tugging insistently at the back of her throat.

“We need to go if we want to get home on time.”

He couldn’t just ignore her like this.

“Are you going to admit it?” she cried, the words erupting from her throat all rough and accusatory.

For the first time ever, she saw real anger flash on her cat’s face.

“No! I’m not jealous of _Adrien Agreste_.” He said the name with distaste. “If you were really so worried about me, you’d drop it.”

They stared at each other. Ladybug had no idea what to do.

“I can do patrol by myself,” Chat said, and vaulted off the rooftop.

 

-o-

 

The next morning Marinette told her _maman_ she had thrown up in the middle of the night. Sabine called the _collège_ , and Marinette texted Alya to give her the homework later tonight.

**_Sure. u ok?_ **

_Yea just sick_

**_feel better! I’ll stare at Adrien in ur honor_ **

Marinette grimaced. How unfair was it that she felt guilty about liking Adrien now? Really. It was totally unfair Chat made her feel like this. She didn’t — she didn’t owe him _anything_! He was being immature.

Whatever. She wasn’t thinking about this right now. She picked up her sketchbook.

 

-o-

 

Seven hours later — one nap and four episodes of _Project Runway_ and sketching — Alya texted her. School just got out.

**_how sick r u_ **

_not bad. I’m better_

Marinette had decided to allow herself only one day for sulking about Chat. Tomorrow she’d be back at school and her illness excuse had to match.

**_r u gross? R u presentable?_ **

Marinette looked down at herself. Fine, really, except sweats.

_yes i’m presentable_

Alya saw her message, but didn’t reply.

Marinette grumbled. She so wasn’t in the mood for whatever Alya was planning. Honestly, why couldn’t she have a day off? Just one day filled with nothing. Or, more accurately: self pity and  sulking about her argument with Chat.

Why was he even like that? Why was he so _petty_? Why was he letting fucking Adrien Agreste get in the way of everything? They were supposed to be _partners_.

Well — Marinette bit her lip, tapping her cheek — well, maybe she did that first. Ladybug was the one that reached for the earrings.

She wouldn’t have, if she had known. Known that it was an illusion. A lie. Known that it was something, somehow, that would hurt Chat.

Another reason they couldn’t know each other’s identities. When personal and professional got mixed like that — it ended badly. If she had her way, Adrien would stay far away from all akumas so Ladybug would never do something that stupid ever again.

Chat and her — maybe they were at the limit of their situation. The limit of their relationship. They felt too much to be so excluded from each other’s lives but still absolutely could not risk knowing the truth about one another.  

He had such power over her. Chat Noir could disappear tomorrow and she would never know. Why he did it. Who he was. If he really meant all those things he said to her.

“Marinette, a friend’s here to see you!”

Ugh. She hoped Alya wasn’t going to make her go outside.

Her door knocked.

“Come in,” she said, wiping at her eyes quickly.

The door opened.

She was going to kill Alya.

“Hi Adrien!” she said too brightly.

“Hi!” Adrien said in the tone of voice you used when you’re pretending someone isn’t crying. “I have your homework.”

“Thanks a lot. You can put it on the desk.” Marinette tugged the comforter over her lap, feeling a little better that she had the protection of the loft bed. She could stare down his blonde head from above and pretend she had some dignity.

Adrien set the papers down, and then turned to face her. God, he looked even worse than he had yesterday. Was he not sleeping or something?

“This isn’t because of the contest, is it?” Adrien asked.

Marinette let out some approximation of a laugh or a sob, and then shook her head. “No.”

“Do you...wanna talk about it?” Adrien’s smile was more of a nervous grimace, but the way he gripped the strap of his bag and met her gaze was very earnest.

She blinked. “I don’t know. It’s boy problems. Are you qualified for that?”

Adrien laughed. “Maybe not.” He paused. “Can I come up?”

Marinette considered.

How weird would it be for Adrien to invade her Chat feelings nest?

“Sure,” she said softly, and he put down his bag and climbed up the ladder.

He crossed his legs, ducking his head away from the slope of her ceiling, settling beside her. “So who’s this boy? Nathanaël?”

“Uh, no.” Marinette chuckled. “Um, he goes to another school.” She brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around them.

“A foreign lover?” He mock-gasped.

“We are _not_ together!” she said, glaring. Then she looked away. “We just had a fight, is all.”

“A bad one, if it was upsetting enough to keep you home from school.”

She glanced at him. It was surreal to see Adrien so attuned to her own feelings, his face so close beside her and her mind so full of thoughts of another boy.

“It wasn’t even a real fight. I just yelled at him and he ignored me.” She sniffled, pressing her sleeve to her nose. “What do you do when your best friend in the world won’t even admit he’s mad at you?” she said thickly.

“I — don’t know,” Adrien murmured. She looked at him, at once remembering that he was a boy who never had a friend outside Chloe Bourgeois until he was fourteen.

“It’s okay,” Marinette said, exhaling. “It’s not your problem. I just — my friend is never mad at me. He’s never mad at all. I don’t — I just can’t—” she broke off, hiccuping, bowing her head to her knees.

She felt a hesitant touch on her shoulder, then a warm hand on her back.

“He can’t be mad at you for long. You’re _you_.” Marinette peeked at him from.

“You’re the sweetest person in the class,” Adrien explained. “I have a hard time believing _you_ would do something worth getting this irritated at.”

She rolled her eyes back into her knees. Adrien rubbed her back, only slightly hesitating now.

“I can be pretty horrible,” she said, resting her chin on top of her folded arms. “When I’m freaking out.”

“I don’t believe it.”

She looked at him then, and Marinette thought about how much Adrien Agreste didn’t know about her. How he could never understand the situation Ladybug and Chat Noir were in, and how she could never explain it to him.

Marinette rubbed at her eyes. “You’d be surprised. Thanks for the homework. And, um, listening.” Her gaze flickered away, feeling her walls building back up, welcoming the return of Ladybug’s quiet poise.

His fingers faltered at her back, and then withdrew. “N-no problem, Marinette.”

For a boy homeschooled nearly his whole life, he picked up on social cues well enough to shift off the bed and climb down to the floor, scooping up his bag.

But he lingered at the doorway. “Marinette?” he hedged. “Can I ask you something?”

She looked at him with interest. “Shoot.”

He shifted on his feet. “How do you — apologize — to a friend in a way that guarantees the end of the argument?”

“You’re fighting with Nino?”

Adrien coughed. “No, uh, a girl. From work.”

Marinette blinked at him, mouth quirking in amusement. “I doubt any girl would stay mad at _you_.” She ignored the way his eyes narrowed at that. “Just be honest with her,” Marinette said, her gaze sliding away, back to her knees.

“Alright. Thanks, Marinette.”

“Bye, Adrien.”

Then he was gone.

_Be honest_ , she had said. Typical.

She always gave advice she herself could not follow.

 

-o-

 

That night an akuma attacked at the Seine.

A sous chef whose superior had passed off her innovative sushi dish as their own. Each of the akuma’s eight tentacles wielded a knife from the chef’s knife set, and the monster darted and hovered through the sky, slicing up fish and streetlamps and — Ladybugs.

It was a good hit, not dangerously deep but smarting like crazy, making her vision blur as she threw the spotted chewing gum into the sky and summoned Ladybug’s healing charm.

Chat Noir rushed to her side, retracting his baton and hastily sheathing it.

“Are you okay?” He grabbed her shoulders, peering at her face. Closer than he’d been for weeks.

Ladybug touched her cheek experimentally; she felt the cut shrinking beneath the tips of her gloved fingers.

“Yes—” her earring beeped. Chat let his hands fall.

“Time to go,” he said, stepping back. Out of reach.

Ladybug followed him, catching his wrist. “I want to talk to you.”

Chat looked at her, and then darted his gaze to some spot in the horizon.

“I’m sorry for being rude the other night,” he said. “That’s all I want to say.”

Ladybug scowled. “Yeah well, I wanna say more.” Her earring beeped, followed by his ring a half-second later.

She leveled her gaze with his.

“Please talk to me,” she said. “In ten minutes? To recharge your kwami?”

“Of course,” Chat said, soft and quiet. “Of course.”

 

-o-

 

“How’s your face?”

They had met at their favorite rooftop and sat beside each other, observing the city as they often did. The normalcy of everything thawed the awkward chill some.

“Fine,” Ladybug said, twisting her glove tips. For all appearances of normalcy, Chat was still sitting far farther away than he ever did.

_Be honest._

“I know you won’t admit it, but you’re mad at me.” She said it into the air, and if she didn’t meet his gaze it didn’t have to be real. This cold and ugly thing didn’t have to exist between her and her _chaton_. Or if it did, it could exist between them and the whole of Paris.

“So I’m just going to talk,” she continued. “You — you _do_ think I was being stupid for giving up my miraculous. But — I care about Adrien. I care about him a lot. I didn’t want him to die.”

Ladybug paused, breathing. “I think it’s unfair for you to be mad at me for that. I know — I know it's hard. The way we are now.”

Her palms itched, she felt his absence at her shoulder like a phantom limb. Paris glittered before them.

“But the fact is I have people I care about from my personal life. We have whole lives outside each other. That’s the way it is.”

She looked down at her lap. “We can’t change that.”

Then Ladybug summoned all the courage she had; she turned her gaze on him and said: “I’m not going to apologize for liking a boy that’s not you.”

He flinched. Curled into himself.

Her throat closed up. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “And—”

Ladybug gasped. “And—”

Chat glanced at her; and even though her eyes swam she read the hurt and betrayal in his face, the concern rapidly overtaking them both.

She broke then, cried, entirely giving up on talking. The sobs shook her ribs, pulled at her spine. She nearly fell when he wrapped his arms around her, but let herself be held.

Crying into his shoulder after rejecting him. This really was her week.

“A-And it’s unfair — for you to get so mad. When I _do_ like you.”

His fingers faltered on her hair.

“You’re — the most important friend I have. You’re the only — You’re the only one I can trust. You’re the only person that makes me believe I can do this. And if you think you’re the only one hurting at not knowing—”

He clutched her to him. Soothing, stroking.

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Ladybug sobbed. “I can’t stand it. I can’t do this without you.”

“No, no,” Chat whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was rough, tear-thick.

She tugged at him insistently, pressed her face into his neck.

“I’m right here, Buginette.” he whispered. “I’m not mad at you.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” he said.

He tugged her pigtail, wiped at her face. “Don’t apologize,” he whispered.

She sniffed. “It wasn’t just jealousy, was it?”

“No,” he said, chest stuttering in surprise against her cheek.

“It was something — something about your real life. Right?” She peered up at him.

Chat gazed at her with such resignation she knew she’d found him out. “Right,” he confirmed.

“I’m sorry.”

( _I’m sorry for whatever happened. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not being able to talk about it now._ )

“Don’t be sorry,” Chat repeated. “It’s — not your fault. I just—” he touched a lock of hair at her temple, nervously slid his fingers into her hair and cupping her cheek. “I don’t know what you see in Adrien,” he admitted.

Ladybug laughed, leaning into his hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Sure, he has the money and the looks and whatever.”

“That’s not why I like him.” she said, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

“What else is there to like?”

She glared at him. “Adrien’s the kindest boy I met. I mean, I get it. I didn’t think it would be possible for a model to be so genuine, but he is. Just because you don’t see that in a perfume ad doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. She could read his skepticism.

“I like him cause he’s like you,” she said, quieter. “He’s kind, and selfless, and sweet.”

His thumb swept across her cheekbone.

“You like me?” he asked, voice quavering.

_Be honest_.

“Yes,” she confirmed.

The word seemed to soothe something in Chat, ease some tension and pluck some knife from a wound Ladybug had never noticed before; he relaxed into her then, rolling his shoulders, pulling her closer, dipping his forehead down until they were nose to nose.

“I like you,” she said again, and watched his face change with the words. His gaze flickered from her mouth to her eyes and back again.

For a moment, Ladybug was certain he was going to kiss her.

“I wish I knew who you were,” he whispered, secret-thin.

She tensed. “We can’t.”

He shifted, gripping her tighter. “My lady—”

“If we know each other's identities, the moment one of us comes under Hawkmoth’s control—” one of us meaning _him_ — “is the moment our lives are in danger.”

“He already targets everyone at our _collège_ ,” Chat argued half heartedly. “He knows where we are.”

“But if he knows _for sure,_ he’ll take advantage of — you know, our feelings. Use it against us.”

“He’s already turned me against you.” He smiled at her. “You always win in the end, my lady.”

Ladybug looked around searchingly. “Maybe — maybe I'm not ready yet.” She peered at him. “I’m not — I'm not sure you’d like the girl under the mask.”

In another mood, she would laugh at his expression then, several magnitudes of disbelief bugging out his eyes. “Why wouldn't I like her?”

“Because if you don't then I’d be losing my best friend _and_ my partner. I'm not ready for that.”

Yeah, she would laugh if she wasn’t currently being strangled by self-conscious dread.

“My lady—” Chat kissed her temple. “I would never. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

She looked up at him, tear-stained. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head, pressing his face into her hair.

 

-o-

 

“I bet if I kissed you, I could make you forget all about Adrien Agreste.”

Ladybug’s laugh came out airy. “Really? If the catsuit and super powers didn’t work, you think a kiss will do the trick?” She smiled so he would know she was joking.

For a moment he just looked at her. Then, ducking his head close to hers, he whispered: “Well, I figure that if we ever did know each other’s identities, I wouldn’t want you to get buyer’s remorse.” He did that thing again: looking at her lips just long enough for her to notice before he met her gaze again. “Might as well get a free sample,” Chat said, leaning in even closer.

“Hmm.” Ladybug tapped her chin with a finger, not bothering to push him away. “This is a very convoluted come on,” she said, throwing him a sidelook glance and a smirk.

“But it’s working?”

She considered him, the anxiety in his face belying his casual stance. “Define ‘working.’”

She had to stifle a giggle at the run of emotions that distorted his expression in the following seconds. Chat Noir recovered quickly, though, and pressed on:

“I could kiss you right now and you’d swoon into my arms, obviously.”

Ladybug nodded, brow furrowing. “Obviously.” She exhaled. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know I am perfectly amenable to kissing you—”

Her mouth curved, unable to restrain herself, mirroring the jubilant smile on her partner’s face.

“—but it has no reflection on anything you’ve said in the past ninety seconds.”

Chat laughed, leaning back and pressing a hand to his chest. “Meow-ch!”

“I especially don’t want to kiss you now.”

That only made him laugh harder. She grinned, chuckling herself. She was nervous and strained and splitting at the seams, probably, but —

“Can I kiss you?”

He said it quiet and low, serious and sweet.

“Chat —”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything—”

“Shut up. Of course it’ll mean something.” Ladybug huffed, narrowing her eyes against the waxing gleam of the city lights. “I don’t wanna be just some girl you’re kissing, Chat.”

She turned her face away, blinking away the sting at the edges of her eyes.

“Like I have multiples of those,” he mumbled beside her.

She told him then: “I want to be the _only_ girl you kiss.”

“You’re the only girl I _want_ to kiss,” he said, and his hand was on her shoulder, and then she was wrapping her arms around him, and then the stars were shining.

(she hadn’t known that about him)

 

-o-

 

“Can you still be friends if you make out?”

“ _Alya!_ ”

The girl in question raised her hands in placating defense. “Relax, this is a hypothetical scenario, everyone.”

“Uh,” Nino said. “Er...that is, eh.”

“Is this about Marinette’s boy?” Adrien said.

The look Marinette gave him right then let Adrien know that he made a Mistake. Like some sort of possessed doll from a slasher film, Alya’s head slowly swiveled towards Marinette.

“ _What?!_ This isn’t hypothetical? Who the hell are you dubiously platonically making out with?!”

Marinette made a series of noises, none of which were actual words. “A—th—a guy!”

Adrien cut off any further interrogation with due haste. “I THINK,” he announced, “you don’t have to be together if you make out but it’s not platonic.”

“Well, wouldn’t it be weird if you weren’t exclusive?” Nino cut in.

“People make out all the time who have no intention of dating,” Alya dismissed. “The real question—”

“Yeah, but the established scenario is that they’re friends. There’s already some feelings there, and—”

“So you do have an opinion on this _monseuir_ uh, eh, er.” Alya mocked.

The couple’s indignant squabble erupted quite in earnest then, Nino successfully distracting Alya long enough for Adrien to have a moment alone with Marinette.

“Sorry,” he apologized, quiet and low.

Marinette just shook her head, flashing him a small smile. “It’s okay,” she mouthed.

“I told you he couldn’t stay mad at you.”

“You did.” The smile that bloomed on her face made him smile, too.

“So are you official?” Adrien asked.

Marinette shrugged. “I don’t know.” She met his gaze and blushed. “We agreed dating other people would be a bad idea.”

Adrien scoffed a little, turning back in his chair. “I can’t imagine who wouldn’t want to commit to the lovely Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, future fashion dictator of the entire industry,” he intoned dramatically.

“Luckily for you,” Marinette chimed, “you don’t have worry your pretty head about it.”

When he glanced back she winked at him; her bangs falling over her eyes — and it was familiar, a memory he had seen before. A moment he had known before it happened. _Déjà vu_.

  
Adrien blinked at her, but before he could recognize the quirk of her smile Mme. Bustier called the classroom to attention.

**Author's Note:**

> stayed tuned for my next fic nino/pastrami don't like don't read


End file.
